Godolphin School

In December last Miss Fawcett, our dear friend and wise counsellor of so many years, thought it best to retire from the Governing Body, and we certainly should not wish her to have any of the fatigue which is inseparable from attending the business meetings of the School. Nobody can, perhaps, tell quite as well as myself that her unfailing sympathy and wealth of wisdom have meant to the School through all these years, and we should indeed feel poor if she had not promised to take exactly the same interest in the Godolphin School as before, although she is no longer a member of the Governing Body. We hope she will let us record in our Magazine the sense of our deep debt of gratitude and of our affection towards her, and may her influence always remain as an abiding benefit to the School.

On February 1st Canon Bankes passed away, and with him passed from our midst one of those men who carry about him an atmosphere which should make it impossible for all who had the rare good fortune to know him of learning to love better all things “honorable, pure, just, lovely, and of good report.” He loved these things, and we know that he loved the Godolphin School, and desired that it should grow more worthy to be loved by all who passed through it.

Mr. Hammick, another kind friend of the School, has passed away, and with him are linked in our minds the names of his two daughters, who were once members of the School. They must, I think, have been deeply touched by the many tributes to their father’s great record of services rendered by him to the city, and I hope they will let us add our record of gratitude for what he did for the Godolphin School. I went to see him very often, to get his help and support in matters which concerned the welfare of the School, and always found him ready to give the help asked of him. He was very greatly interested in the plans for the new cloak room, and took much trouble in furthering that very important addition to the buildings. We all know, though he never mentioned it, how much he suffered from lameness and pain, and yet he seldom missed coming to a Governors’ meeting here, in spite of the many other public duties to which he had to attend.

The School must show its gratitude for all that these three Governors have done for it by trying to be more and more faithful in the use of the opportunities which the School provides for our benefit.

Never before in the history of our nation has there been such a terrible war. The magnitude of the struggle, the multiplicity of human interests concerned, the complexity and difficulty of the many problems involved, the anguish of anxiety and suffering, and the glory of the countless deeds of heroism, altogether make a bewildering atmosphere in which the great tragedy is being enacted. It is therefore of paramount importance that we should one and all try to see certain points quite clearly, and try to disentangle the simple straight issues from the general mass of actions and events that are piled up from day to day.

We ought to be very grateful for all the help that has been given to us towards doing this since the first day of the war. Great sermons have been preached; great success have been made by statesmen; great messages hae been framed by the King, and by Commanders at home and in the battle line or afloat; simple words have come to us from the front; hymns and verses have been written, all helping to clear our vision and make us see points of light and threads of gold through the darkness.

Will you let me try to set down some of the thoughts which have been given to us at this time?

In the words of the great Christian hero who is being laid to rest in St. Paul’s today, “We are at War – to hold our promise, to help our friends, and to keep the flag of liberty flying not only over our own Empire, but over the whole world.”

The spirit of patriotism is aflame and burning to make any sacrifice for the Motherland.

The countless deeds of heroism done every hour by sailors, soldiers, chaplains, doctors and nurses shine with a light which will never be quenched.

The brave love and splendid fortitude of those whose dear ones have given their lives for the country are amongst the most beautiful things on earth, and we have examples of these daily before our eyes.

Thousands of men and women, boys and girls, and little children all over the Empire are helping with their sympathy, their works and their prayers to hold up those who are in posts of honour and of danger on land or afloat, and to mitigate the sorrows of homeless Refugees.

The most selfish soul alive is faced with a priceless opportunity for forgetting self.

The greatness of the present moment consists largely in the hope that the soul of England will be cleansed through the suffering and ennobled by the sacrifice of her sons, and will live again in all simplicity and Christian faith and humble obedience to God’s will.

What we humbly hope for England we may hope for Europe, and through the vitalising of Christian nations we may hope for the spread of God’s Kingdom of Truth and Love through-out the world.

These are some of the thoughts which may help to keep our hearts brave and our wills strong and our prayers fervent through all these sad days. For sad days they are, and we may pray God that there may never be such sad days again. As the Bishop of Salisbury said in his sermon in the Cathedral, there is much in war that must be hateful in God’s sight. We are probably all feeling that modern methods of warfare are hateful. The cleverness of man is surely misdirected by making larger and larger engines for the wholesale destruction of human life, and the hidden hand that strikes in the dark by mines cannot surely be counted an honourable weapon. May there be a world-wide consensus of opinion ranged against such methods as these when this most awful war is over. But besides these things, which must be hateful to God, there are all the faults and failings of individuals which have helped to make the sum total of that which is displeasing to Him. So whilst we take courage, we must seek out the weak places in our characters, and must pray for penitence, real personal penitence, which will result, with God’s blessing, in real personal renewing, for again, the renewing of the world is the sum total of the renewing of individuals. This war can leave none of us as it found us. God grant that we may all so learn its lessons that the world may be prepared to serve Him not slothfully through the peaceful days to come.

Prisoner

Autumn Term, 1914

September 22. – School re-opened, and assembled in the Hall for the first time after it had been made so beautiful by the great kindness of Miss Douglas and Miss Lucy. Miss Douglas said that though there would be no Commemoration this year, our Hall would, perhaps, receive a more sacred dedication in the prayers which would be offered there for those who had gone to the front.

Miss Douglas then spoke of the subject which was on everyone’s mind. In this time of our country’s great need we all want to do all we can to help. First of all, we must do our own daily work as usual, only better, putting aside al selfishness, greediness, weakness, and idleness.

Then Miss Douglas told us what special plans had been made for us. The Geography, History, and Literature lessons are to be made intensely interesting, because they are to deal with things connected with the war. Every House is to have the Times, and the set of maps had been put up at School and in the Houses. We have also got a gallery of heroes, including him who we are so specially proud, General Sir Horace Smith-Dorrien.

Miss Douglas then asked us to try and dwell on the glorious and heroic deeds, and not to read or talk about the shameful acts which the Germans seem, in many cases, to have committed. Miss Douglas then told us of the special plans which have been made for voluntary classes between 5.20 and 7.30 on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Friday, in which we learn useful things, such as carpentry, cutting out, laundry, bandaging, knitting, &c.

On Saturday evenings we give up dancing for pleasure, and have instead a big Mission Work Party, so that our Mission may not suffer. Miss Lucy reads to us.

School begins a few minutes earlier in the morning, and very day at 10.50 there is a special Intercession Service in the Hall. Different prayers are used on different days, and we often sing the beautiful hymn, “Mighty Father of Creation,” written by Miss Bagnall’s brother-in-law. On Wednesday we pray by name for our relations and friends at the front, beginning with “General Smith-Dorrien and the officers and men under his command”; then follows a list of some 150 names of those dear to us at the font in the Army and Navy, or serving as doctors or nurses. Some of these names are already on the Nation’s Roll of Honour.

Carpentry in the Main Hall

The School has joined the Girls’ Patriotic Union of Secondary Schools, of which H.R.H, the Princess Mary is the Patroness; Miss Gray, head mistress of St. Paul’s Girls’ School, the Hon. Secretary; and Miss Gadesden, head mistress of the Blackheath High School, the Hon, Treasurer. It is delightful to think that the girls in the schools of England are all uniting together in earnest endeavour and useful work at this time, and a great deal of trouble is taken to circulate useful information. Knitting and needlework for the sailors and soldiers has gone on most briskly all the Term, and large consignments of socks and shirts and housewives and many useful things have been sent to Lady Smith-Dorrien and other people for distribution. The carpenters, under Mr. Atkinson, have been hard at work, and hae made many splints and three strong bed tables, with long legs on castors, so that they can be moved about in the hospital wards. The Godolphin laundresses at Rose Villa wash regularly, under Miss Furneaux, for the red Cross Hospital, doing about 100 dusters and cloths, &c., a week. We hear that Old Girls who learnt their work at Rose Villa and The Wilderness are most useful as kitchen maids at the Red Cross Hospital, and are particularly to be trusted to clean the saucepans well. Miss Ashford has been commandeered to cook or to nurse at the Hospital as is required, and all the Godolphin Staff are spending every minute of their so-called spare time in helping in most valuable ways to meet the many, many needs that arise in connection with the war – getting up music for patriotic meetings and helping regularly in the Soldiers’ Guest House and the Central Hall Evenings for Girls.

Nearly two months after the German occupation of Brussels, their military authorities came to the conclusion that all English nurses and doctors were spies, at least that was the reason that they gave for turning us out of Belgium. I had been working with other English nurses at a fire station, where a 137 bed had been given up for an ambulance. Our only patients were Germans, of whom we had about 80, no really serious cases, and as these men recovered and were discharged, no more were set to us, as the Germans shut all small ambulances and only kept open the big hospitals and the Palace, all under their direct control. At last, on October 3rd, we were ordered to be at Gare du Nord at 1.30 the following Monday, as a train, chartered by the Americans, was being sent to Masstricht via Aachen, and we were all to return to England by way of Holland and Rotterdam.

OCTOBER 5TH, MONDAY – The firemen, all of whom seem sorry to see us go, took our luggage down to the Gare du Nord in a big lorry, and stood guard until we arrived. Nurses and luggage were arriving from all directions, and soon there was a huge pile outside the main entrance. None of the Belgians were allowed to enter the station, which was guarded by German troops, so some of us went in and tried to find men to carry in our luggage. There were a number of men not in uniform who were working in the station – Germans – and they were persuaded to bring our boxes in and stack them up inside the station. It was now about two o’clock, and the train was not due until 3.20 (German time). The station was looking very unlike its ordinary self. Lines of service wagons were standing just inside the entrance, horses being detrained and led about, and motor ambulances bustling up and down. Crowds of soldiers everywhere. All the carriages and trucks standing in the station had German names on them, such as “Bremen”, “Liepzig”, “Munster” and “Stuttgart”, and the majority were decorated in leafy branches. No one in authority seemed to have any idea of finding which was our train, and arranging about the luggage, and the German officials took no notice of us whatsoever. The Americans, who had arranged for and chartered the train, began to arrive, and they had their luggage put on board one of the trains standing in the station. Some of the nurses also got in, but the luggage was still sitting on the platform, and the majority of us with them. It was almost time for the train to start, when a rumour went round that we were not to go after all. No one seem certain about it, some of us were actually in the train; but those were advised to get out, and finally the train went off and left us, which settled the question. We tried to find out what was going to be done next, and if we were going that day or by a later train, or not at all, but we were only told that the German officials had refused permission for us to start, and that nothing further had been arranged. The American Legation had been appealed to, and we were told we must sit on our boxes and possess our souls in patience. Trains of wounded were constantly coming in from Antwerp, from which direction came the continuous thunder of the heavy siege guns around the Walheim Forts. A German solider, speaking perfect English, said to me, “I don’t wonder they’ve not let you go; you know far too much about Antwerp.” I said, “What nonsense; we know far less about Antwep and the war in general then they do in England. That is one of the reasons why I am so anxious to get back”. He shook his head doubtfully, and, pointing to the Red Cross surgeons and dressers, continued, “Anyhow, I wouldn’t let those young fellows go. Why, they will enlist as so as they reach England.” I tried to explain to him that they were doctors and non-combatants, but he was not at all convinced, and highly disapproved of their departure. Of course, to the Germans it is incomprehensible that every man should not have been trained as a solider, and especially that young men like that should not be in the firing line. I wished we looked at it in the same light. It was now late in the afternoon, and as it seemed likely that we should remain at the Gare du Nord for some time to come, we unpacked our tea baskets and ate a substantial meal, thanks to the provisions we had brought for the journey.

After tea Satan found something for our idle hands to do in the shape of a pack of cards that one of the sisters had with her, and four of us found a comfortable corner and played auction bridge. A crowd of German soldiers quickly collected, who were deeply interested, and constantly volunteered advice as to how the hands should be played. One of the sisters who was playing against me, although quite the best player in the ordinary course of things, found so much attention exceedingly trying. She revoked, trumped her partner’s best card, and when remonstrated with exclaimed in great exasperation, “How can you expect me to play with the enemy all around me!” We did tease her, and asked if she was in momentary expectation of a bayonet in her back? It was certainly the most curios game of bridge that I have ever played, with the Antwerp guns booming ceaselessly. At last we had definite orders that we were not going that day, and our luggage had to be taken out of the station again and our “firemen” sent for. I am sort to have to record that the Englishmen of the party sat and watched the nurses struggling with heavy baggage, never offering to help, and it was German officers who ordered their men to carry our things for us.

The firemen were delighted to see us back again, and we made up our beds once more and settled in for the night without unpacking more than was necessary. At about 10 o’clock we received a message ordering us down to the station again the following morning at the same time, 1.30.

OCTOBER 6TH, TUESDAY – This time the Germans were fully prepared for us. No one was allowed to enter the station until an officer appeared with a list of all out names, and as each name was readout we went into the station between lines of guards from door to door across the booking hall. There was no looking after our big luggage this time which was let to the tender mercies of the Germans. We were shown the train that was waiting for us, and packed in. There was very little room, as it was not a long train, and besides all the nurses, who numbered 120, there were troops going with us as well. Two soldiers got into our carriage, and said that orders had been given for two men to be in each compartment, so we had to make the best of it, and they were very decent fellows.

A man from the American Legation was on the platform. He was very worried, as the Germans had told him that we were going to Cologne, and did not say where next. The original arrangements had been that we should return to England via Aachen and Masstricht. However, it couldn’t be helped, and we had to hope for the best. The train started very punctually, and we crawled out of Brussels.

A regiment just going off to the front were formed up on the platform, singing the “Wacht Rhein.” All the Germans have delightful voices, and they were singing very quietly, in parts. The soldiers on our train gave them a great ovation. We stopped every few minutes to let trop trains full of reserves pass, all cheering and singing. All through that afternoon and evening it was the same – a constant stream of trains, long trains, full of men or guns, service wagons or horses – and always the same enthusiasm. We passed through Louvain, and saw the effect of the German bombardment. Their fire must have been exceedingly accurate, as although nearly all the town is demolished, including several outlying villages and farms, there is no sign of any damage in the fields surrounding the town, no holes made by shells, or evidence of the passage of troops. Those Belgians whose houses are left are still tilling the fields and attending to their crops, all of which (mainly roots) are unharmed. In view of what has been written in the papers about Louvain and district, this is worth noting. We had tea out of our Thermos flasks, and wondered how long we should be in the train. We had been told to bring food for thirty hours. It now began to get dark and exceedingly cold, and by the time we crept into Tirlemont we were shivering, for a thick mist had risen, hiding the moon which had lighted us up till then. We stopped just outside the station, and I could see men walking up and down the line, and a woman standing by a huge tin basin of something steaming. This was an opportunity not to be lost; so I took my tin tea-kettle and got on to the line. There was no danger of being left behind as the train always went so slowly that it would have been quite easy to give it a start and run after it. I asked the girl what she had in the basin, and she said “soup.” I asked her to give me some in my kettle, and was very taken aback when she said that she was not allowed to giving any to the prisoners passing through.

I assured her that we belonged to the Red Cross, and therefore were not prisoners – (as a matter of fact what else were we?) – and after some persuasion and the gracious permission of a German soldier, I got my soup and carried it back in triumph. It warmed us up a bit, and we tried to settle down for the night. It was most horribly cold and uncomfortable, as there were eight of us in the carriage and no possibility of really sleeping. We kept stopping for hours to let troop trains pass. The absolute silence, except when the two German soldiers talked to each other, was very weird. We went through Liege about one o’clock. Just before we came into the town we saw what was evidently an alighting ground for airships and aeroplanes, as it was marked out by lights placed on the ground, and walled round by straw or rubbish so as to be only visible from above. The railway ran here on an embankment, and so we were able to look down upon it.

By morning we were nearing the border, and the country became more hilly. At one little station on the frontier the Germans had put up a sign post with “To Berlin” on one arm and “To Paris” on the other. It is a long, long road that leads to Paris. Every station was strongly guarded, the waiting-rooms turned into guard rooms, and soldiers at intervals all along the line. At one station where we stopped I asked some soldiers if they could get us some water. They filled the bottles we gave them, and so we managed to boil a kettle on the methylated spirit lamp – a rather dangerous proceeding – and have some tea for breakfast, no milk of course.

We passed Aachen, and now went a little faster than before, as the train was at last in its own country. We still had to wait occasionally for troop trains, and passed men bivouacked by the line. These men were not the old men and boys our papers are so fond of talking about, but Bavarians, some of the finest soldiers in the German Army. They seemed all between the ages of twenty-six and thirty-six and were very smart indeed. They wore uniforms of the true “Prussian” blue, and shackos with a white cockade with black centre in the middle. The country here was very pretty, rather Devonshire, only flatter. Rich loamy soil, and beautifully wooded. Also there seemed to be goats everywhere, of all sizes and colours. The vastness of Germany made a great impression upon me. We were travelling much quicker now, and passed huge manufacturing towns, and the wide stretches of country, and everywhere soldiers and troop trains passing. They have a wonderfully efficient Red Cross system of rest stations. At every stopping place, large or small, there are temporary buildings erected, and Red Cross workers who distribute hot coffee and soup, bread and butter and cigarettes, not only to the wounded, but to every soldier passing. They are all so cheerful and confident.

During the afternoon we stopped at a place called Staalberg, where we were suddenly ordered to collect all our hand luggage and get out of the train. The Germans were very curt and impatient in their manner and proceeded to search out hand baggage and made us turn out our pockets. Knives of any kind, and in some cases scissors, were confiscated. We were then ordered back into the train again, and started off once more. We reached Cologne at 11.30 that night. It is a beautiful station; crowds of officers and men on the platform; no civilians at all. We were again ordered to get out and marched between lines of guards to a big refreshment room, where long tables were spread, and the officer in charge announced that food would be provided, for which we would be expected to pay. We were given roast meat and vegetables, rolls and coffee, and felt better. Also, we were able to get a “wash and brush up”, which was sadly needed. Up till then we had been obliged to wash our faces with “Larola” and our hands in brandy! We wondered if we were going to spend the night at Cologne, but at 12.30 we were marched to another train, destination uncertain. We were able now comfortable, as we were less crowded, and in most cases each had a seat to sleep on. Our guards also were changed, and the new ones, Bavarians, had carriages to themselves, instead of being actually with us. It was a wonderful; sight as we crossed the Rhine, looking back at Cologne, with the great searchlights playing over the river and guarding it from aerial raids. We were able to get a little sleep that night, and next morning we finished the provisions we had brought for the journey. We still had some oxo left, which was delicious when we could get water to boil. During the morning we were run into a siding where troops were bivouacked, and allowed to get out (under guard)and have breakfast in a wooden shed by the line. They gave us coffee in huge shallow tin basins, cold sausages, cheese, and bread. We also found a tap where we could wash our faces and hands and fill our water bottles. We passed Osnabrück that afternoon, and managed to change the little English money we had for German money; they would not take Belgian money. At about 3.30 we stopped at another siding, and were each given a huge basin of rather odd soup; however we were very hungry, and quite enjoyed it. We were also allowed to walk up and down by the train with our guards standing round with their rifles ready and a curious crowd of villagers watching us.

We left Bremen on our left, and it was not until 12.30 that night that we reached Hamburg. We were very hungry by then, and our methylated spirit was finished, so we could no longer drink tea and oxo. The huge Hamburg docks seem deserted, no sign of life anywhere. We stopped at Hamburg station. Crowds of soldiers again everywhere and trains of wounded coming in, and troop trains going west. Red Cross people came up and gave our guards bread and butter. One man who had been particularly kind to us insisted upon my taking one of his three pieces of bread and butter, and gave another to the Sister in the carriage with me. I am sure he must have been hungry too. We started off again, and in about half-an-hour’s time arrived at Altona. We were ordered to get out. One of the guards explained that we were going to be given something to eat, and we were marched into a refreshment-room, really too tired to care what happened to us. Hardly had we sat down, and before we could eat anything, we were marched out again, as the train was late, and we started off once more. It was bitterly cold that night, and about five o’clock we stopped at Rendsburg. An officer got into our carriage and asked us where we had come from and if we were English; he then ordered us to pull up the windows and pull down the blinds. Four German soldiers got into our carriage, and I heard one of them say, “If they give any trouble kill them!” We were going over the famous Kiel Canal, of which, needless to say, we saw absolutely nothing. Once across, the train stopped, the soldiers got out, and on we went again.

The next day was spent in crossing Schleswig-Holstein. No food was provided, but we managed to buy fruit, milk and biscuits with our German money. The milk was the greatest treat, as we had had none in Brussels, or only what was quite unfit to drink. The country here was exceedingly flat and marshy, and the names of the stations became gradually less German.

At Somwerstedt that evening our guards left us, as it was the last German station, we were really sorry to see them go, they had been so very kind to us throughout the journey. At the next station, Vaudrup, we charged into a Danish train and were once more free agents. It seemed quite funny to have to look after our own luggage and have ordinary passengers travelling with us. We reached Copenhagen that night, and were most truly thankful for a bath and bed.

I think it may interest you to read part of the letter which I got from a sailor, who used to be our gardener, thanking me for a muffler I made for him. He says “We are not allowed to write any information as to the movements of the ships, fleets, units, or anything which might fall into the hands of our enemies. We are attached to the squadron that bombarded the Germans off the coast. Whilst I was aboard the Prince George we were at Ostend in the earlier part of the war. We landed the naval brigade, detachments of marines, guns and ammunition and loads of gear. We were also attacked by submarines, and I am told a torpedo passed within 6ft. of our stern. As were coming out of the narrow channel the leading ships fired, but we didn’t. We took several prizes off the Germans and Austrians…. I feel I should like to go and see all the folks at home, if only for an hour. The Emden has come to the end of her tether, also the Konigsberg; that will free our ships to chase those other eight that sank the Good Hope and Monmouth.”

On Tuesday, 27th October, Miss Wyld took me up to London. We went up to the Belgian Refugee Transport Office, where we found Miss May Wyld, who told us that just as she was about to leave the Office on Monday night, between 11 and 12 o’clock, she had a telephone message to say that 2000 refugees would arrive at about one o’clock that night, and that they must be met and sent somewhere for the night. They were all sent to Alexandra Palace; Miss May Wyld took some up in her car. She told us that they none of them spoke at all, but allowed themselves to be ordered about like small children, which is not surprising, as they were some of those who had been saved from the Gantaume, and also some others fleeing from their country, who were half starved and so dazed and tired that they were grateful for any food and shelter.

First we went to a big hall near the Office, where most of the better class of those saved from the Gantaume had been sent. Miss May Wyld said that it was very difficult to tell the difference between the better and the poorer classes, as they all looked more less like tramps after their long journey, with no clothes except the ones they had on.

The we went to the Alexandra Palace. We took a parcel of sweets from Fawcett House for the Belgian children. When we got there we saw crowds of men, women, and children, wandering about or sitting in groups, with nothing to do. We also saw two huge halls absolutely crowded with beds; they were packed in as tightly as they could be. One room was for the men, the other for the women. The children must have slept several to a bed. Then we saw another hall, which was lined with tables. We saw one table which was stacked with bread.

Some of the poor people had to stay at the Alexandra Palace for about a week, others for only a few days. It depended on how soon homes could be found for them all over England.

Miss May Wyld drove us back through London, and it looked so strange that all the streets were so dark; even the car’s lights had brown paper pasted over them, so as not to show up the streets so clearly.

In our desire to help our wounded soldiers, our thoughts, most naturally, turn to nursing; but there are many other ways in which their sufferings may be eased by those on the spot. The wounded have to undergo many hardships in their transit from the fighting line to the base; many hours must often elapse before they can be picked up; then comes the hasty dressing at the field hospital and their removal to the Red Cross train. This train has accommodation for five hundred wounded, and has to wait in a siding till that number is complete, the earlier arrivals thus having a long and weary wait before the train leaves. These trains are not allowed to travel more than two miles an hour, so that many, many hours are spent amidst much discomfort before the base is finally reached.

During the whole of this period the wounded men are entirely dependent on the kindness of the people at the various stations for any food or drink they may get. The effect of this lack of necessary nourishment on men already weak and exhausted, and frequently enduring the most terrible agony, can well be imagined. The kind-hearted French people do their best for them, but what can private individuals do when frequently thousands pass through in the day? The value of a hot and nourishing drink to these men on their painful journey cannot be overestimated, both from its point of view of saving life and alleviating suffering. The Red Cross, though admitting the necessity of some such organisation, are unable to undertake it. Whatever could be done in this direction would have to be organised privately, though with official recognition. Having seen all this, my cousin, Alice Workman (St. Margaret’s), and her sister, determined to undertake this most necessary work. Another cousin gave them a motor kitchen, so that they could travel quickly from place to place. Amongst friends they quickly collected several hundred pounds, and they were able to make arrangements whereby they could give the men hot soup, cocoa, milk, and bread and butter at the various stopping places. It costs about £6 to feed a train-load of 500 men, and the kitchen is now in full working order, travelling between Rouen and a few miles of the Front.

Godolphinites, Past and Present, may like to hear something of what the settlement is doing in connection with the war. Those who read the October School Sheet found init a fuller account than can be given here of all the new work that has been undertaken. This can only be a summary of it for those who have not the time or the energy to read the School Sheet.

The Settlement is busier than it has ever been before. A soon as the war broke our Miss de Burgho Hodge was approached by the Soldiers and Sailors’ Families Association, and she consented to give the Settlement as the headquarters for both the Camberwell and Peckham Branches, and to lend them the trained Settlement workers to organise their work and sit on their committees. As soon as this arrangement was made, before anything was ready or any helpers had arrived, three hundred Reservists’ wives came clamouring to the doors of the Settlement demanding immediate help! The four unfortunate Residents who were at the settlement were worked as they had never been worked before; but offers of help from old and new friends were coming in every hour, and in a couple of days the Settlement was full, and a band of from fifty to sixty out-workers had collected.

All through August and September the work was overwhelming. Every day wives and mothers of soldiers and sailors applied in their hundreds for help. Every morning they filled the garden and the two clubrooms. The two largest offices in the Settlement were given over to Soldiers’ and Sailors’ Families Association work, and there the Residents toiled from 9.30am to 10.30pm, and thought the work would never end. It was of course new work to everyone, and they had to colect information as best they could about army pay, pensions, Record Offices, and separation allowances. Money at the rate of about £50 a day was paid out, but there was no fear of shortage of funds, as the S.S.F.A. receives grants from the Prince of Wales funds, as October the work became a little lighter, partly because the separation allowances were coming through, and so fewer women were applying for help, and partly because both Settlement Residents and out-workers had had time to gain some experience, and the work was therefore better organised. By the end of October there were some 3600 cases, and as long as recruiting goes on the numbers will increase, so there is still plenty of work to be done.

Besides all that it is doing for S.S.F.A., the Settlement has given two of its best workers to help the Mayor of Camberwell in the administration of the Prince of Wales’ Relief Fund. Miss Livingstone sits in state at the Town Hall as secretary of the Central Committee, and Miss Cowie at the Free Library as secretary of the Peckham sub-Committee. It will interest Godolphinites to know that Miss Janet Douglas, of Talbot House, is secretary for the Camberwell Sub-Committee. They consider applications for help from people, other than the relatives of soldiers and sailors, who are in distress because of the war, and, among other things, arrange for the setting up of workrooms for women and girls who have been thrown out of work. Although there is not as yet much unemployment in Camberwell among men, a terrible number of women, girls, and young boys have lost their work on account of the war.

In the midst of all this new work the Settlement had to remember its regular work, and to see that that did not suffer. Invalid children need help, and hungary school children need meals just as much in war as in peace, so the Invalid Children’s Aid Association and the School Care Committees have to carry on their work, although they are short of workers and accommodation. The Clubs, too, have been re-opened – with so many boys and girls out of work they are of more value than ever – and a new Mothers’ Club for the wives of soldiers and sailors has been started.

There is, of course, the eternal question of finance to be faced. It was a big strain on the resources of the Settlement to have the houses full through August and September, a time when usually only three or four girls are in residence and expenses are low. Thanks to a very generous response, both by Old Girls and outside friends, to an appeal sent out by Miss Hodge in the first week of the war, that difficulty was tided over. But now there is the permanent upkeep of the Settlement to consider. It would be terrible if it were crippled for lack of funds now, when it is doing so much valuable work, and any falling off in the subscriptions of the Old Girls would cripple it. Please remember that, in spite of Red Cross work, Belgian Refugees, and the many new calls on your possibly diminished purses, you are responsible for the Settlement, and that it needs your help now as much, if not more, than ever. You may feel proud to know that, because of the help you have given it in the past, it was ready when the war came, with its useful accommodation and experienced workers, to be of real service to it country.